


Tricky Business

by starlitcities



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Smut, have fun sinners, it's rated E so, kurodai - Freeform, there is lots of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6122506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlitcities/pseuds/starlitcities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There are no strings attached, no commitments, no sudden <i>I love yous</i> or <i>Please stay the night</i>. I’m going to put you on that bed and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, and then you’ll be on your way. Clear?”</p><p>Daichi is still stuck on the fucking part, feeling Kuroo’s hard on grind against his hip, hot breath fanning against his ear. He wants this. He texted Kuroo. He couldn’t stop thinking about him after that night. Sawamura ‘Steady’ Daichi is changing things up in his second year of Uni, and it starts right here.</p><p>“Get to it, Kuroo.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tricky Business

There are a lot of things that Sawamura Daichi can explain. He can explain why seasons change, why grass grows. He can explain several different mathematical theories and _why_ they might be necessary. He can explain why he’s done the dumb shit he’s done over the years of his life: Like setting off the fire alarm in high school over some stupid squabble, why he still has nightmares over flying wigs, or why he doesn’t usually keep pets around him—because they don’t like him, and if they do, he gets too attached and can’t leave the house for five minutes.

What Daichi _can’t_ explain, however, is how he ended up jammed into a tiny coat closet with almost no room to move, and the little bit of room he did have was occupied by another body pressed tightly against his, with two hands woven in places no stranger should be putting them.

Well, Daichi _could_ explain how he got here, but that requires admitting that he fell prey to cheesy one liners and a sharp golden gaze, and he’s not about to give up his pride for something like that.

Not just yet, anyway.

“Don’t space out on me,” the voice is soft against the shell of his ear, and chuckles as Daichi’s breath hitches.

Tipsy is putting it lightly. Plastered may be an overstatement. Daichi’s intoxication is somewhere between a good buzz and just drunk enough to blur the line between good ideas and horrible mistakes. Right now he’s not sure what this is, it could be neither, both, but it is getting harder to think with lips mouthing at the curve where his jaw descends to his throat, and fingertips dancing across the skin of his torso. 

He probably wouldn’t be thinking this hard if his reason for being in this closet was wrapped around a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven and there were a circle of people outside the door hooting and hollering for something to happen.

Daichi is sure that probably no one knows they are in here. Oikawa is already gone. He said he was going to leave early to get some rest and skype with his boyfriend. Daichi’s fingers’ twitch. Should he grab his phone and let Oikawa know? _Hey, by the way, I’m locked in a closet with someone, just a heads up._

That’s the alcohol talking. Oikawa would probably respond with a _have fun_ ☆～（ゝ。 _∂_ ） _._ Not to mention how awkward it would be to explain to the body currently pressed against him that he needs to pause in between sloppy kisses to text his roommate of his whereabouts, like some preteen checking in with their parents on a late school night out.

Instead of reaching for his phone, his hands find their way into the deep red shirt in front of him and latch on. He should get better at sex cues, really. His jaw drops as the shirt comes loose from his fingers and disappears with the dim light of the closet. It’s not what he was expecting, but he’s not complaining either, when his hands fall back against washboard abs and warm skin.

“Damn, I should have picked a space with more room,” he mutters, hovering over Daichi with an airy laugh on his lips.

Daichi wishes he knew this guy’s name, at least he could call him something instead of using “hey you” or “uhm”.

He forgets all about figuring out the name when those same hands peel his own shirt over his head and drops it at their feet, fingertips gliding down the expanse of skin along Daichi’s torso. “So? What do you want first?”

Daichi sputters, trapped under a golden gaze that pulls him further from coherency and closer towards pure lust. “Uhm… what...did you have in mind?” He murmurs, losing his breath when his bottom lip is gently kissed at.

“ _This_ , I think,” his voice is quiet in the dark of the closet. Daichi gasps when his back hits the wall, and those fingers that had been mapping over the contours of his abdomen are now pulling apart the seam of his jeans, and the mouth that had been sucking on his bottom lip is descending the same way.

_Shit_ , Daichi mentally curses, _shit shit shit shit—_

His litany of foul language short circuits when an open mouthed kiss plants itself against his hip bone. It’s hot, wet, everything right to make his brain fuzzy. Daichi quickly notices that this guy—this guy about to suck him off in a coat closet—has really soft hair.

It’s a small passing thought, something to distract him and control himself as he tries not to alert anyone by banging his head back against the wall, or worse, losing all sense of his hips and ramming down this guy’s throat. Daichi knows full well he isn’t shortchanged in size, and he’s not sure what kind of gag reflex this new _friend_ of his has—or if one at all—but he’s not too keen on testing that out via rough play.

He rolls his eyes shut, squeezed tight and claps a hand over his mouth when the pornographic noises and the overall skill starts to ignite a fire in his stomach.

“Usually I’d be all for hearing you make noise,” the guy says from below, long fingers—Daichi doesn’t have to _see_ them to know that—tracing across his thighs, “but you’re pretty responsive all over, so I don’t think I mind it.”

“Good. Because I’m not up for dying of embarrassment, so let’s not get caught?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Yeah. 

Sawamura Daichi can definitely explain how he got here.

All because of that stupid, crooked smirk peering up at him. Even he can make out that curve of that Cheshire Cat grin in such shit lighting, and it destroys any and all sense of being the “good kid” tonight.

 

 

* * *

 

“So let me get this straight,” Oikawa makes a _pop_ noise off the edge of his lollipop. Daichi shifts uncomfortably.

Only Oikawa would think to have a lollipop when they’re in the middle of a conversation about how Daichi drank himself into fumbling into a coat closet with some random guy, and receiving a blowjob that had his head spinning for hours after.

“You hooked up with a guy in a dark closet, and you didn’t get his name? You can’t even remember his _face_?”

“Look, when you put it that way—“

“He can put it any _way_ , Daichi, it all still sounds bad. Daring, though!” Daichi gives an unimpressed stare into the screen to his left. His best friend is grinning at him through the screen. Sugawara Koushi, most definitely the only person besides Oikawa that knows as much about Daichi as Daichi should—maybe more, since Suga is a people person. 

“Thanks, Suga. You really make me feel better.”

“It’s pretty funny,” Oikawa grins, dragging his tongue across the tip of the sucker.

“Would you put that _down?!”_

_“_ Why? Having flashbacks? You’re not hard are you? Sorry, Dai-chan. I’m a taken man—ouch,” Oikawa’s jokes come to a halt when Daichi kicks his shin.

True, he does find Oikawa all kinds of attractive. Who wouldn’t? He’s literally a walking Adonis. But Daichi learned quickly that once Oikawa opens his mouth, or rather, once he _likes_ you, the whole Adonis image goes flying into space. 

Daichi met Oikawa over the summer before their first year of University, when roommate assignments were sent out, and that went along with phone numbers, and Daichi thought the profile to be promising. He was even happier when Oikawa texted him first, and they became pretty fast friends—Daichi prefers to use the term acquaintances, because Oikawa gets mushy about it—until they moved in together.

Suga had decided to go elsewhere for Uni, and Daichi didn’t think he’d miss him so much until dorm life.

Oikawa was downright annoying, and Daichi always kept it in the back of his head that one day he was going to lose it and just punch him. But an honest side of Daichi regards Oikawa higher than that. He’s a good guy, with a good head on his shoulders. His eyes are sharp and words sharper. He’s loyal, and he works wonders when Daichi really needs him.

Which is why he somehow agreed to signing a lease with him for their second year, versus running for the hills to find a new roommate.

“Back to the main subject,” Oikawa sticks the lollipop into his cheek and leaves it there, trained into obedience by Daichi’s glare, “are you going to go hunt him down? Did he leave anything behind?”

Daichi shakes his head.

“So no Cinderella story, huh,” Suga puffs disappointedly. Oikawa tips his head towards the screen and smiles, flashing his pearly whites.

“I was thinking that too, Kou-chan!”

“Stop it, you two. I’m not going to go _hunt_ him down. Yeugh, that sounds so weird,” Daichi shivers, creating a mental image of himself lurking around campus with hunting tools.

“Calm your wild imagination for a few seconds. If you’re not going to do anything about it, then why did you tell us?” Suga asks, everyone disregarding that Suga had managed to read Daichi’s expression through a camera hosted by shitty internet connection.

Daichi stiffens, the wrinkle of his nose falling to the floor and his face turning a bright pink. He really is terrible with social cues, sex cues, cues in general.

Oikawa puts a hand over his mouth and blinks away crocodile tears. “Kou-chan. He really does love us!”

“Oikawa, don’t tease him.”

“I’m never telling you two a single thing again,” Daichi pouts, obviously offended. Sue him for thinking the standard was to come back after a wild night and tell your closest pals about it. That’s how it was in the movies. Even beyond the movies, Daichi fully remembers a boat load of shit Suga has shared with him, both over casual moments and awkward ones.

And hell, the amount of bonding he and Oikawa have done over important things and useless nothings qualifies for close friendship, right?

“C’mon, Dai-chan don’t be like that,” Oikawa loops an arm around him, resting his head on top of Daichi’s and tucking him close. “We won’t tell a soul, if you were wondering.”

“Iwaizumi already knows, doesn’t he?” Daichi resigns with a heavy sigh, lips curving about a small smile when Oikawa looks at him sheepishly. 

“Sorry. He’s the only soul that _will_ know.”

Daichi doesn’t mind. Iwa-chan, or, Iwaizumi Hajime, also known as Oikawa’s boyfriend, soulmate, life partner, whatever term suits your fancy, is another person that knows…probably too much about Daichi. Whether or not he _wants_ to hear it, Oikawa is going to tell him. Daichi has met Iwaizumi many times before. He’s a good guy.

Daichi has also been there for when Oikawa and Iwaizumi had their fair share of issues—he promised Oikawa once that he’ll always be there for stuff like that—so he’s sure he knows a fair amount about Iwaizumi as well.

“How does Iwaizumi deal with you?” Suga asks, and Daichi starts to snicker into Oikawa’s shoulder remembering the contorted, annoyed facial expression Iwaizumi dawned when he was asked that same question.

“Iwa-chan is the only person who can truly handle me, I think,” Oikawa wrinkles his nose at how cheesy it is to say it, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that surpasses the embarrassment and explains fondness.

“Cute. I’d love to stay and chat, but I do have homework. I’m sure you guys do too so, we’ll call later?”

“Sure thing!”

“Later, Suga.”

Daichi uses Oikawa’s shoulder for comfort for a little while. It’s not out of the ordinary. He and Oikawa have boundaries of what is and isn’t okay, and light moments like these are definitely in the clear. There have been nights—the nights where Oikawa came home with a nasty curve of his mouth and cloudy eyes—spent where Oikawa tucked himself into Daichi’s side until he fell asleep. There was nothing indecent about it. Oikawa wanted comfort, a warm side that told him “It’ll be okay” when his insecurities got the better of him, and Iwaizumi was either too upset or too far away to deal.

Iwaizumi knows all about it, which makes Daichi feel so much better, and he even gave him his gratitude for helping to keep Oikawa from the darker corners of his mind. 

 

_ “You’re not worried he’ll…? Not that I’d…” Daichi never finished the statements, feeling guilty for having brought them up.  _

_ Iwaizumi only laughed around the mouth of his beer and shook his head. “I get the feeling you’re not that kinda guy. And I’m not worried about him in the slightest.” _

_ “You’re so sure of it. It’s nice,” Daichi smiled warmly about it. _

_ “We figured out that there’s probably nobody in the world that can be a replacement, for either of us. We even tried.” _

 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Oikawa hums, folding his arms around Daichi in a teddy bear sort of way. Daichi rolls his eyes at how sugary sweet he sounds, but he’s too comfortable and lost in his thoughts to reject the touch.

“Iwaizumi, actually.”

“You don’t normally tell people you’re thinking about their significant others.”

“Idiot.” Daichi huffs. “Why don’t you live together again?”

It’s not like Iwaizumi is thousands of miles away. He’s pretty close, so close that he and Oikawa could have an apartment equidistant to both of their campuses.

“Because sometimes proximity is suffocating,” Oikawa shrugs, “we’re not ready to dive into sharing a living space just yet. Why are you asking?”

Daichi doesn’t answer right away.

“My my, that little hookup really did rack your brain, huh?”

“It’s not me. It’s not what I do.”

“It could be.”

“Aren’t you supposed to…I dunno. Say thank you?”

“You’re asking the guy who hasn’t had too many partners, or hookups for that matter. But in my opinion…no? I guess the thank you is a mutual orgasm. Which… didn’t happen because why, again?”

“We got interrupted,” Daichi bitterly recalls the fuzzy memories of that, where he was still coming down from his high, boneless and tasting himself on a hot, talented mouth and then the door was banged on so hard he thought it would break, and a body on the other side shouted “Anyone in there? I wanna use it!”

So Mr. Cheshire Cat and his crooked grin left Daichi with a searing kiss and a soft “I’ll buy you time” before he stepped out, leaving Daichi to fumble himself back into his clothing and leave. By the time he came out, the faceless hookup was already gone.

“Well that’s not your fault. But don’t dwell on it. You both did something under the influence of cheap alcohol and party vibes, and for what it’s worth, you got to feel good for a few minutes. So imagine a beautiful face—whatever face you like—and let bygones be bygones!”

“Yeah.”

“You really can’t remember his face?” Oikawa asks. 

Daichi squeezes his eyes shut in guilt. “I’ve got a little bit.”

“Was he cute?”

“I really hope so. His eyes are golden. Like. _Gold_. And his hair was soft. Nice smile.”

Oikawa makes a low whistle. “Sounds nice.”

“Yeah.”

“You know what else could be nice? Snacks and a movie, and no more talk of this mystery blowjob man.”

“Oh my god you are so lame,” Daichi snorts. “That sounds good, actually. But I want to make the popcorn.”

“One of these days you’ll trust me around a microwave again, Dai-chan.”

Oikawa tried to melt a hershey's bar, just a little bit, because it was easier than using the stove. The candy bar did a backflip on it’s own, chocolate went everywhere and Daichi came home to Oikawa fiercely scrubbing off bits of chocolate aluminum.

“Seriously, did you not think putting foil in the microwave was going to be an issue?”

“Just for that, I get to pick the movie.”

Daichi apologized, but he was still forced to watch some sci-fi thriller, which, admittedly, wasn’t as bad as he thought it was going to be.

 

 

* * *

 

Today was a chore day. Which meant Daichi had to be out and about in between loads of laundry and cleaning up his room. He was proud of himself for coming up with a routine that got quite a lot of work done inside of one day. He and Oikawa developed a system. They sorted their laundry, washed the loads from hot down to colds—so they could shower at night—delicates last—because really only Oikawa had those—and then folded them into little piles to be put away at the end of the day. In between the load washing, they did a task. Dishes, or vacuuming, or room cleaning. They mostly made sure to not have homework on this one day, and for a majority, things worked out.

“Dai-chan, I’m going grocery shopping.”

“Try to buy some healthy snacks, Oikawa.”

They had come to this agreement that Oikawa handled most of the grocery shopping, because Daichi didn’t know too many things about what was organic and healthy, outside of sticking to the major food groups. But that wasn’t the real problem. Daichi ate healthy, almost too healthy. And Oikawa’s knack for craving junk food often went ignored when Daichi shopped, because his idea of a snack was munching on a rice ball, or drinking some water, or if he wanted to spoil himself, trail mix.

Oikawa near shrieked when he came home after a weekend at Iwaizumi’s to find that Daichi’s grocery shopping resulted in no sugary cereals, or candy, or milk bread.

Daichi even forgot the damn milk bread.

“Seriously, who actually _likes_ Raisin Bran?! That’s old people cereal!”

“It’s good for you. You should really stop eating Fruity Pebbles so much,” Daichi sighs, but it’s not harsh. Oikawa does eat healthy apart from his cravings, and he always makes sure to buy things that Daichi likes, whether he’s tried them before or not.

“I was actually going to go to the supply store. I need a few things for class. Do you need anything?”

“Mmm… Oh! You know those sharpie pens? The assorted color ones?”

“The giant pack?”

“No no, there’s only like… ten of them. They’re lil’ skinny things,” Oikawa pinches his fingers like Daichi might have a clue of what he’s talking about.

“I’ll ask a clerk or something. Anything else?”

“Are you still up for pasta tonight?”

“As soon as you come back, I’ll get cooking,” Daichi grins. Oikawa flashes him a cute peace sign before he leaves, and five minutes later he texts Daichi with a picture of the pens he’s looking for, because he doesn’t trust some clerk to decipher Daichi’s mangled explanation of what Oikawa wants.

 

 

* * *

 

Daichi hovers in the aisle of pens, already having found the ones Oikawa was looking for. Expensive, but worth it probably. He floats to the next aisle, paper in hand as he looks for the textbook he needs for that online course he signed up for. Thankfully this bookstore is affiliated to the campus, so it not only sells general office supplies, but it also sells school supplies, ranging from textbooks to scrubs for the pre-med students.

“Art history…” he mutters to himself, kneeling down to the bottom shelf, thinking he might have found it.

He didn’t _want_ to take this class, but the requirement is that every undergrad take G.E’s that may not be useful for one’s major, but somehow they help with your sanity, because while you’re stressing about the major courses, you can direct your stress to something less time consuming. 

Or in this case, less interesting.

Daichi has respect for art. Artists of all kinds. But he has zero interest in a course dedicated to studying pieces he’ll only ever see through textbook printer ink and writing essays on how they _speak_ to him.

“Maybe I should switch to something else…” Daichi mutters, knowing there are still plenty of alternatives open to swap into before the class gets started. He’s not big about making last minute, on the fly decisions, but he really doesn’t want to take this class.

Oh well. He’ll tough it out. The reviews on the professor said she was nice, not too tough but not too lenient. The right kind of professor. He’ll have Oikawa help him out if need be.

He pushes back to his feet and heads to another aisle with Oikawa in mind.

The only reason Oikawa isn’t an art major, apparently, is because he’s got it made up in his mind somewhere that the world wouldn’t be satisfied with him if he chose something that wasn’t a money maker. So for that reason, he’s Pre-Law. Iwaizumi tried to convince him, and so did his parents, but he swore he wanted to keep art as a passion of his, not a profession.

Daichi stares at the wall of sketchbooks in awe, a little intimidated because while they all look like pads of paper in varying sizes to him, to someone who actually knows what the hell they’re doing, these things matter. Weights, sizes, titles. So apparently artists _don’t_ just grab a piece of notebook paper and go nuts, even though they can.

Daichi rolls his phone in his palm and considers calling Iwaizumi for some help. Maybe he knows a bit more about all this art mumbo jumbo.

“What media are you here for?”

Daichi nearly jumps out of his skin. He didn’t even feel the presence next to him, and he can only imagine what sort of confused face he must have been making while staring at this wall of paper wonders.

“Uhm. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No I. It’s cool…” Daichi trails off, blinking, and blinking again, a third time for good measure.

He was definitely drunk that night, and he definitely _can’t_ remember that face. But he remembers features. Starting with those golden eyes. There’s no mistaking it. This guy, currently dressed in something not too far off from pajamas, is staring at him with sharp, golden eyes and a small, crooked smile. It’s polite, not quite like Mr. Cheshire Cat from the other night, but so similar there’s no way it could be anyone else.

Daichi doesn’t even realize how hard he’s staring until he feels his basket almost slip from his fingers. He clumsily fights to put it back into his hands correctly, cheeks turning a deep carmine when the guy in front of him starts laughing.

“Whoa man, I’m flattered, really.”

“What?”

“Oh come on, you don’t stare _that_ hard at someone for no reason. You think I’m pretty.”

Daichi’s jaw pops open in protest, and then closes shut. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find this guy attractive. He’s not sure if he’s more attracted to him because he now knows Mr. Cheshire Cat is standing here, or because he really is that good looking. He’s gorgeous. His eyes are cat like, small beads of amber beneath thick lashes and heavy lids. His hair's a mess Daichi can’t even begin to explain—all he knows is, it’s soft, and the look works for him. His lips are pink and flush and since when did Sawamura Daichi stare at one pair of lips so hard—

“My mouth?” He steps closer, smirk widening and Daichi is more than sure now that it’s him. His voice isn’t as silky as he remembers it, but it’s still dangerously good to listen to. “You’re not very wordy, but I get the idea. That’s cute.”

“You’re bold, aren’t you?”

“You’re kind of obvious, in my defense. But yeah, I guess I am. Am I wrong?”

Okay, so the beer goggles effect wasn’t an issue. This guy is just as gorgeous—if not more so—than he was that night. But damn, Daichi did have something else in his head, because this guy is cocky and growing closer to insufferable the longer he stands there with that smug look on his face.

“You said something about media?” Daichi changes the subject, looking back at the wall.

“Yeah. You an art major?”

“Oh. No. I’m buying for a friend. But…”

“What does he use? Pencil? Watercolour? Ink? Paint?”

“Pencils,” Daichi confirms, “sometimes ink.”

“Does size matter?”

“Nope.”

There’s a stretch of silence, and then a small bout of nervous laughter. Daichi looks at him with complete confusion. 

“Wow, you really passed right over that joke. Okay.”

“What are you, five?” Daichi frowns.

“I’m definitely bigger than that,” he laughs even harder, bypassing Daichi’s eye roll and reaching up to the wall. He grabs a sketchbook, placing it into his hands with a triumphant grin. “This one should do.” 

“You an art major?”

“Nope, I just happen to know stuff.”

Daichi looks around the aisle, seeing only art supplies, which means this guy was either aimlessly walking, or following him, or he’s lying. 

“Oh.” Is all Daichi musters. He decides he doesn’t care enough to find the reason why this guy is standing in front of him, and just accepts that he is.

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” 

The tone sounds teasing, somewhat familiar to that night, which is enough to make Daichi’s cheeks burn—he can easily pass that off as bashfulness—and his hands to wring around the lip of his hand basket.

But maybe it’s not.

“Holy shit,” Mr. Cheshire Cat breathes like he’s just discovered the secret to the universe.

Daichi may be terrible at reading situations, but he knows that look, and he blushes even harder.

“Here I am, hitting on you—or trying to anyway—and it turns out you’re the guy I’ve been looking for! Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“You didn’t remember me,” Daichi argues quietly, his voice dropping to just above a whisper, “and besides, I wasn’t _entirely_ sure it was you either—wait, hitting on me?”

“Yes. Which you kind of derailed five seconds in. I had it all planned out. Woo you with my art knowledge, get you to think I’m some enigmatic art stud, give you my number and voila.”

“You asked me if size matters.”

“Testing your humor. Which isn’t crude, clearly.”

Daichi actually smiles, just a bit, because it’s kind of cute when this guy pouts, and it _is_ a little sweet that he was planning to hit on him, even though he did quite a terrible job. But that means, this guy didn’t come down here for art supplies of any kind. He was watching Daichi.

“You’re pretty bad at this.”

“It’s an off day. Can we start over?”

“You gonna hit on me again?”

“Don’t tell me I’m being shot down,” he places a hand over his heart like he’s wounded. “At least tell me your name. Wait. We didn’t remember names, right?”

“As far as names go, I’ve been calling you Mr. Cheshire Cat—in my head,” Daichi reaches to pinch the bridge of his nose in self disappointment. He pinches harder when the laughter gets louder, deciding he needs to work on the art of shutting his trap in moments like this.

“I’ve gotten lots of nicknames, and _that_ has never been on the list. It’s Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou.”

So now he has a name. A good name too, Daichi thinks.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Do I get to know your name? Or am I gonna have to give you a nickname too? I’m not good at nicknames. I can try though,” Kuroo takes a good step towards Daichi, his wicked smile carving razor sharp.

“S-Sawamura. Daichi.”

The proximity invites tension, and the tension gets awkward, at least on Daichi’s end because he’s not used to being in people’s personal space like this, and he’s caught between I’m-seriously-attracted-to-this-guy and Should-I-do-something-or-just-stand-here. Kuroo hovers near him, eyes measuring him up and smiling when Daichi goes stiff.

“Sawamura.” The way it rolls off of his tongue makes Daichi twinge with curiosity. “I guess I can skip a good portion of this,” he gestures his index finger between them, “since I did suck your dick in a coat closet.”

“Shut—up!” Daichi hisses, looking around to see if anyone is nearby. This store is probably a ghost town right now, but Daichi isn’t shameless and Kuroo’s voice is way too damn loud for his liking. “Your point?”

“You busy tonight?”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Daichi mentally kicks himself over and over again because damn it, he really considered it for a moment. Just remembering even a fraction of what it felt like to have Kuroo’s mouth on his, mumbling hot, breathy things into his mouth, against his skin, dripping between his ears and melting his brain, or even better, when he went down on him and near sucked out all his energy straight through his dick.

Daichi can remember enough of that night to know whatever might happen back at Kuroo’s place, he’ll enjoy it. Kuroo’s little pitch about being ambiguous is really grabbing onto Daichi’s conscience, because he is so much more curious now. 

But he recalls his conversation with Oikawa, about how hookups aren’t for him, and they just don’t feel right in his gut.

“Sorry. I am,” Daichi mumbles. “I uh. I’m the chef. At my place. My roommate would probably starve without me.”

He’s not sure why he’s rambling about an excuse, because Kuroo doesn’t look offended in the slightest.

“That’s cool,” his eyes drop down to his feet and Daichi swallows hard, narrowing his eyes onto the sketchbook price tags to avoid looking at Kuroo’s face. It’s such a nice face.

Daichi’s eyes widen when Kuroo reaches for the abandoned pad of pink sticky notes to his right, opposite of the sketchbook wall. It’s out of place, sure, but Kuroo is careless when he rips off the packaging and snags a sample pen from the bin above. “You can’t just do that!”

“It’s a pack of sticky notes, Sawamura,” Kuroo stares at him in flat disbelief. He can’t believe Daichi would reprimand him over something this insignificant, such as a two dollar pack of sticky notes that some employee probably would have just nabbed at the time of closing anyway.

Kuroo scribbles something down quickly, peeling it from the rest and pushing it into the palm of Daichi’s hand. 

“Next you’re going to want me to call you?”

“If you like,” Kuroo grins. 

“Pay for those sticky notes and I’ll consider it.”

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t mess with criminals.”

“Please tell me you're not some goody two shoes,” Kuroo puffs sadly.

Daichi hates that term. People used it on him all his life because he always played it safe, was always steady. And because of some momentary flashback to all the times he could have done something daring and stupid and didn’t, this just gave him a little push.

He takes one good step towards Kuroo, leaning up into his space with a determined look in his eyes. “Would some goody two shoes have gotten drunk and let you choke on his dick inside some coat closet?”

Kuroo blinks slowly, snagging his lower lip between his teeth and raising his eyebrows. He’s impressed. Probably too impressed. “Choked on it…that sounds about right.”

Okay, so Daichi’s plan to stun him didn’t really work. It more or less—no, it absolutely, positively—backfired because this guy biting his lip and lowering his voice threatens to make Daichi’s pants tight, and before he can embarrass himself any more in front of Mr. Cheshire Cat—who now has a name—he mumbles something about having to leave and high tails it to the checkout line.

 

 

* * *

 

Daichi power walks it back to the apartment, thankful that it isn’t a far walk, and bursts through the door to find Oikawa poking Iwaizumi and bothering him about something. He doesn’t care what it is, but maybe he should have, because Oikawa takes one look at him and comes flying over to him, bringing his face into his hands.

“What happened between here and the store?”

“Mr. Cheshire Cat,” Daichi exhales. Oikawa looks back at Iwaizumi with a puppy pout. He was probably being forced to learn how to cook something for once. Daichi confirms that when Iwaizumi calls over to them.

Daichi follows Oikawa into the kitchen and takes his place at the counter, perching himself on a bar stool. “I ran into him at the supply store.”

“You’re sure it was him?”

“Of course I’m sure. Unmistakably sure. And he hardly remembered me too. So.”

“And what happened?”

“I got his number,” Daichi holds up a pink sticky note, “and said about five unbelievably stupid things and—hey! Oikawa what are you doing?!”

“Confiscating this, for now,” Oikawa tucks the little slip of paper into his pocket, “Until you tell me everything.”

“You might as well start talking,” Iwaizumi snorts, tugging on Oikawa’s elbow to get him to taste the sauce.

“I’m sorry, I know I said I would—“

“It’s okay. Iwa-chan offered. He even brought beer!”

Iwaizumi glances back at Daichi with a kind smile and gestures to the fridge. 

Daichi quietly thanks him, and for a brief moment he thinks it wouldn’t be too bad if Iwaizumi stayed here more often. He might not mind Iwaizumi moving in either. Daichi doesn’t see too many downsides. They’d have their own room, the rent would be cheaper, Daichi wouldn’t have to cook every night. But, he doesn’t bring it up. He already knows _why_ , but the thought was nice.

“Uhm. Well. He saw me. While I was shopping for pens.”

“My pens?”

“Yeah. And I think he saw me again when I got my textbook. But he approached me when I went to look for sketchbooks.”

“Sketchbooks?” Oikawa tilts his head. “Dai-chan you don’t draw.”

“I was looking to buy one for you, and then—“

“I have the best roommate in the world.”

“Oikawa, _shut up,_ ” Iwaizumi snaps, gesturing for Daichi to continue. 

“He tried to hit on me. Which I guess I messed up in five seconds flat. Shocker,” he shakes his head, thanking Oikawa when a cold beer, cap already removed, lands itself in front of him. “I realized who he was first, and he realized shortly after. He helped me pick out a sketchbook, and then, gave me his number. He ripped open a pack of sticky notes—which he didn’t even buy—and wrote it down.”

“Of all things to give me details on, you’re telling me he gave you his number on some paper he didn’t buy? Dai-chan, please. What did he look like? Sound like? Was he worth it? A mistake?”

“Good. Really good. Too good to be legal.”

“How does he measure up to Mr. Refreshing? Or me?”

Daichi stares, wondering if his own shitty nicknames have stemmed from spending too much time with Oikawa. “Different,” he says slowly, “he’s darker. _Enigmatic_ ,” he twiddles his fingers, mocking the way Kuroo used it back at the store.

“Enigmatic,” Oikawa mutters flatly. “Such word choice.”

“I think he’d give you a run for your money.”

Oikawa twists his mouth a certain way, almost offended Daichi would say something like that. But Oikawa well aware of where he and Daichi see each other, so instead of making a smart ass remark about how he’s offended, he pulls out the pink sticky note and folds it open, laying it flat on the counter.

“Call him.”

“What? No!”

“Why not? You just said he could give me a run for my money. Which. I doubt. But I don’t doubt your taste, so if you think he’s on my level, then you should call him.”

“I don’t even _know_ him.”

“The point is to call him for mind-blowing sex, is it not?”

Daichi grits his teeth, lacking an argument.

“And he’s gorgeous?”

Again, no argument.

“And he’s interested in you?”

“Why do you say it like that?” Daichi whines.

Iwaizumi spins around to set two plates in front of them, and then a third for himself, joining them at the counter. “Oikawa is right. If you’re up for it.”

“When?” Daichi asks, not saying that he will, but both Iwaizumi and Oikawa take that as a sign that he will and exchange smiles with each other, a gross thing that they do from time to time that makes Daichi want to throw them both into a wall.

“Not right away. Give it two days. Or three,” Oikawa advises.

Daichi pushes food into his cheek and that’s about the end of that conversation. They change it to talk about Oikawa’s grocery trip, and Daichi sets the sticky note on the inside of his textbook to get back to later. Or never.

He’s on the fence about calling Kuroo. A part of him says “why the fuck not” and another part screams “it’ll be a mistake”. His brain is still warring over which side sounds better. For now, he’s going to listen to Oikawa’s advice and give it time.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

Daichi lasted the two days, constantly flipping his phone in his hand and thumbs dancing over the message. He never sent anything, though he did get close.

He couldn’t think of what to say. A simple ‘hey’ might be weird, right? Maybe it’d be safe to ask, ‘is this Kuroo’ or say something like ‘yo it’s sawamura’.

Okay scratch the ‘yo’. 

Why was he thinking so hard about this? All he had to do was either text him or not. At first, Daichi voted on not texting. He had already established that hookups weren’t his thing. Not that he knew if they were or not, because he’d never actually gotten involved in having some kind of one night stand, or friends with benefits.

But by that logic, how did he know if this was for him or not?

What if he was actually good at keeping the boundaries in tact, rules in place? What if the sex was just sex, everything in between didn’t matter, and feelings were a definite no go. 

He was right back to square one, deciding if he should continue being the same steady kinda guy that everyone knows him to be, or continue pulling random, out of whack stunts that may or may not prove to be exhilarating.

It occurred to him, after a conversation or two with Suga and Oikawa, that he really had nothing to lose by doing this. Either it worked out for him or it didn’t.

So in the middle of his philosophy course, he whipped out his phone and sent a message, a quick ‘hey it’s me’. He wasn’t used to texting in class, but he was sure he couldn’t wait any longer, and it was probably rude to make Kuroo wait any longer than he already had.

Daichi gets a reply back within five minutes.

_please tell me you have me saved in your phone as mr cheshire cat_

Daichi bites his lip, going to save it as such and sending Kuroo a screenshot of it. 

_aw shit. now I need a name for you_

_I think Sawamura will do just fine._

_thats so boring… but until I think of something itll have to do. so whats up?_

Good question. Daichi hadn’t thought that far ahead. What does he do now? ‘So when do we hook up?’ No. ‘What are you up to?’ Nah.

Maybe Daichi took too long to reply, or maybe Kuroo is eager, the reason isn’t clear nor does it matter, but Kuroo sends another message.

_well. I guess we know /why/ youre texting me. real question is, when are you free?_

Daichi can reply to that. That’s easy.

_Right after this class. I get out in about an hour_

The only thing after that is an address from Kuroo and a flurry of emojis. Not the ones Oikawa uses, but those standard iPhone ones. Daichi has only progressed to using the laughter and the anger one every now and again because they’re simple. He’s not sure why Kuroo sent him a bunch of faces and hands, but whatever. In one hour he’s going to be in front of Kuroo, and probably doing some things that don’t involve talking.

 

 

* * *

 

Daichi spends a few minutes lingering outside the door. He’s not going to run away or anything, but how should he act when the door opens? And then, there’s the whole thing about trying to hide the confusion on his face on the address. He’s praying this isn’t some kind of joke, because this apartment complex looks ritzy, and university students don’t fit _ritzy_ , and what if Kuroo brought him somewhere that’s _not_ his place—

“Oh. You got here faster than I thought you would,” Kuroo says, standing at the door in a shirt and shorts, looking a little sleepy.

“Uh, were you… expecting someone?” Daichi looks around.

“Nobody but you. I was gonna run down to talk to the prop man, but since you’re here, it can wait.”

“Property manager?”

“Bingo,” Kuroo grins, and then he grins wider. “You seriously texted me in the middle of class? What kind of dirty fantasies were you whipping up?”

“Nothing,” Daichi answers, too quickly. “It just crossed my mind to do it right then, so I did.”

“You don’t look like the kinda guy that lives whimsically,” Kuroo hums, and then he steps aside, letting Daichi enter and shutting the door behind him. “Welcome to my humble abode. Don’t worry about roommates, one is gone for the day and the other is…somewhere…?” he says it in a way that inclines he’s guilty about not knowing where his roommate is, but  he smiles as well, probably because it happens a lot.

“No wonder this place is so big,” Daichi mutters under his breath. The apartment is pretty big, not that his is anything shabby or small, but this place looks more like a penthouse kinda joint rather than a University apartment for some students. They’re currently in the living room, which feels kind of like a den, the way it’s sunken into the floor, but the entire open space feels massive. The kitchen is to Daichi’s right, a pretty big space with a breakfast nook and a little table to seat six off to the side. And one of these smaller hallways and doors leads to Kuroo’s room.

“Well, I can’t say it isn’t on the luxurious side. Our one roommates footing the biggest bill is, for lack of a better word, loaded. He’s got the master bedroom, so he can get all private and what not when his boyfriend comes over.”

Daichi blinks.

“Oh, yeah. He’s gay.”

“I gathered that.”

“You looked surprised.”

“Did I? Considering we’re two guys standing in your apartment right now…” Daichi gestures to the space around them, eyes taking in how nice it looks. Like they must have had some interior designer come in and set things up.

Kuroo smiles at Daichi, reaching for his hand. Daichi tenses just slightly, but Kuroo only grabs onto his shirt sleeve and walks him down the hall. “Here’s my room.”

It feels like a room Kuroo would have. The walls are a muted color, riddled with posters here and there of favorite bands or movies. His desk is in the corner by his bed, and there’s a pretty nice set up in the middle of his room for a tv, what looks like a stereo system, and a gaming console. Daichi swore he said the roommate was loaded.

Kuroo doesn’t mention any of the things in his room though, and probably for good reason. They’re here for sex, not post introduction conversations.

“You can take your backpack off, set it wherever,” Kuroo gestures, and Daichi hops to it, setting his backpack on the floor by the foot of the bed. 

He stands awkwardly in the center of Kuroo’s room, eyes shifting around like he’s supposed to receive some sort of signal on what to do, but there isn’t any signal, so now he feels even more awkward, and Kuroo is just watching him with those cat like eyes.

“I take it you’ve never done this before.” It isn’t a question.

“Nope.”

“Do you know how this works?”

“Sex,” Daichi nods once. “No strings attached.”

“And you’re standing over there fully clothed because…?”

“I just said I’ve never done this before,” Daichi glares at him.

Kuroo snorts and walks over, bringing Daichi’s face into his hands and slanting their mouths together like he’s been doing it for weeks. The kiss feels good, and Daichi almost gets lost in it when Kuroo’s jaw drops open to aim for that lower lip. He tilts Daichi’s head back and dives for his neck instead, peppering kisses all along his throat and sliding his hands down the length of his torso. He pulls back momentarily to rip Daichi’s shirt from over his head and comes back to him, and Daichi is lost in the movement of Kuroo’s lips, his hands, and his hips. His desperate attempt to keep up almost feels silly when his nerves get the better of him, and all he can manage is to clutch at Kuroo’s shirt like he did in the closet that night.

Last time, Kuroo pulled his shirt off and dropped to his knees. This time, he ignores it, bringing his hands around to grab Daichi’s ass, and he’s very generous about it.

Daichi’s innocent gasp is a dead giveaway.

Kuroo pulls back, moving his hands up to a safer position around Daichi’s back and stares him down.

“Are you a virgin?” He asks, voice expecting an honest answer.

“No,” Daichi answers firmly.

Kuroo squints slightly, in disbelief.

“I’m not!” Daichi defends. “I’ve slept with someone once before!”

“Someone? Once?” Kuroo asks, but he’s already going back to leaving small pecks along Daichi’s throat, feeling him relax in his arms.

“Yes. Someone. More than once.”

Kuroo pauses just underneath the shell of his ear. Daichi feels the smile against his skin, and it makes his pants twitch. “Did you top or bottom?” Kuroo asks quietly, knowing the way he sounds is a turn on, and Daichi is falling victim to it faster than he could have accounted for.

“Uhm…bottom,” Daichi’s cheeks heat up and his eyes stay trained on Kuroo’s shoulder, blushing furiously when Kuroo traps Daichi’s earlobe between his teeth and sucks.

“Sawamura, let’s be clear about this.”

“I’m all ears,” Daichi offers the lame joke, seeing as Kuroo is so attached to his ear right now. It makes Kuroo laugh, so at least he knows this isn’t headed in a bad direction.

“There are no strings attached, no commitments, no sudden _I love yous_ or _Please stay the night_. I’m going to put you on that bed and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before, and then you’ll be on your way. Clear?”

Daichi is still stuck on the fucking part, feeling Kuroo’s hard on grind against his hip, hot breath fanning against his ear. He wants this. He texted Kuroo. He couldn’t stop thinking about him after that night. Sawamura ‘Steady’ Daichi is changing things up in his second year of Uni, and it starts right here.

“Get to it, Kuroo.”

Kuroo tugs him towards the bed and drops him onto it, crawling over him and sealing their mouths together again. Daichi was worried he would suddenly become gentle or something, and quickly reminds himself that gentle only matters when there are feelings involved. Kuroo doesn’t brutalize him, but he isn’t exactly gentle, either.

He sucks hard against a spot on Daichi’s neck, smiling against it when he gasps sharply and arches into Kuroo. Who knew bursting a shitload of capillaries beneath his skin could be so hot? Daichi rolls his eyes at himself for thinking anatomically and instead turns his focus to helping Kuroo remove his shirt. That’s right, he got to feel those abs in the dark a week ago. Now he’s seeing them in the soft light of Kuroo’s bedroom.

Kuroo leans back to ditch the shirt, and Daichi forgets what air is for a few seconds. “Whoa,” barely escapes his lips, but Kuroo hears it.

“You can touch,” he grabs one of Daichi’s hands and brings them to his skin. “Man, you really are different when you’re drunk,” he says, bringing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss.

Daichi frowns at him, taking that hand that’s currently gliding along Kuroo’s torso and twisting it around, sliding it beneath the shorts and palming him in full. It surprises them both. Kuroo didn’t think he was ballsy enough, and Daichi was not at all prepared for the heavy heat. “Christ,” Kuroo sucks in a breath and rocks into his hand, “most people gradually move through foreplay, y’know.”

“I think you’ve figured out by now that I’m not most people.”

“You most certainly are not,” he sighs, and Daichi feels somewhat smug when Kuroo’s eyes roll shut and he rocks into his hand again. But Kuroo fights back, dropping his hips low and pressing himself against Daichi’s hand, as well as his own hips, and he drags himself torturously slow. It makes him shudder, and Daichi tenses for a brief moment, relaxing when Kuroo attacks his mouth again, sucking on his lower lip with a hot need.

“Wait, Sawamura. Stop. I want to go down on you.”

“How do you say things so shamelessly?”

“You get used to it,” Kuroo shrugs, pulling Daichi’s pants off of his hips swifter than Daichi has ever done himself. He bites his way down Daichi’s stomach, stopping when he gets to his cock. Golden eyes flicker up towards Daichi with an impish grin.

“What?”

“You gonna watch me?”

Daichi makes a face like it should have been obvious, but Kuroo probably prompted the question to get Daichi thinking about what his face looks like.

Kuroo takes the head into his mouth and sucks slow, tongue whirling around in both skill and a test to seek out a reaction. Daichi exhales a little harder than usual, eyes steady on Kuroo’s mouth, thick lashes over his eyes fluttering as he focuses.

This feels better than the night in the closet already. Maybe because Daichi is sober, or because they’re not in some cramped space, or because now he can actually see what Kuroo’s doing and he might be some kind of voyeur that has yet to awaken fully. Whatever the reason, it feels good, and Daichi almost tilts his head back to groan, except he’s too excited to see what Kuroo is going to do next.

Kuroo works over him slowly, spit and precome mixing together on his tongue as he guides Daichi further into his throat. He’s tense at first, throat constricting and Daichi winces, but then Kuroo relaxes and _hums_ and it sends a spark of pleasure through Daichi so hard his toes curl and his head near smashes against the headboard. Daichi knew he was good at this, but now that he can fully demonstrate all of his tricks, and there’s no rush or need for secrecy, it’s something else entirely.

“Like that?” Kuroo pulls off with a pop, dragging his tongue from base to tip and sucking at the head like Daichi’s cock might be a goddamn popsicle.

“Where…” he wants to ask where Kuroo learned how to do something like that, but he’s too blissed out to form the sentence.

“Watch me, Sawamura,” Kuroo urges.

“Do you have a thing for being watched?”

“Possibly.”

“Nice,” Daichi is the one to smirk this time, and Kuroo’s face falls for a moment before he takes Daichi into his mouth again, aggressively this time, and Daichi is pretty sure if he keeps going at this rate he’s going to throw self restraint out the window and make a noise he didn’t even know he could.

But Daichi watches him, just as Kuroo wants him to. He really is gorgeous, with his messy bed hair and his strong jawline, his cheeks that hollow out and lips that are kiss red from suction and so much more. Daichi winces, because watching Kuroo is depleting his libido, which is dangerous, because he’s deep in Kuroo’s throat and Daichi is losing control of his twitching hips.

“Kuroo, I’m close so you can stop—!”

Kuroo lifts his gaze and looks up, eyes meeting Daichi’s and holding him there and he pulls up slow, a hand fisting around the base of Daichi’s shaft and lips popping off the tip, swallowing greedily and dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. It’s obscene, it’s dirty, and it’s so fucking hot that the only reason Daichi didn’t blow his load is Kuroo’s hand tightly wound at the base.

“Oh my god,” Daichi rasps out, flopping back against the bed. He feels sweat prickle across the back of his neck and all over his body, halfway to boneless as Kuroo climbs back up and smiles at him.

“Better than the coat closet?”

“Way. Better. That little. Part at the end,” Daichi speaks between breaths, and Kuroo chuckles, reaching up and over him to grab at his bedside drawer. Daichi takes that chance to nip and bite at Kuroo’s chest. Kuroo pauses, but Daichi doesn’t look up, he just scrapes his teeth across a pink nipple before guiding his lips over it. And it must have been like a jackpot, or something, because Kuroo drops his hand down to the bed, the other fisting into Daichi’s hair.

Daichi brings his hands to Kuroo’s shorts and works them off of his hips, low enough to free his straining erection and feel it press hot against the flat planes of Daichi’s stomach.

“Eager,” Kuroo hisses, a deep groan pulling from his throat when Daichi gets a hand around him, doing what he knows how to do. It isn’t much, but he’s working under the principle that as long as you do _something_ with a hard cock, it’s bound to get a reaction. Sure, Daichi is pretty much a novice in all things sex related, but hey, Kuroo isn’t complaining. In fact, he’s pushing himself further into Daichi’s touch and grinding down on him like he isn’t sure what else to do. So maybe Daichi is right on the money for once.

“Erogenous zone?”

“Oh my—Sawamura, who calls it that?” Kuroo gapes at him, lips curling around soft laughter.

Daichi ignores him, eyes roaming back down to the slick erection between his fingers. “Hey. Kuroo. Come up here.”

“Hm?”

“Well. I was gonna…” Daichi pinches his expression, like he’s hoping that Kuroo will just understand what he wants versus having to say it.

Kuroo twitches his hips forward in Daichi’s hand and tilts his head. “You were gonna what?”

Daichi turns a decent shade of berry and bites the inside of his cheek, rubbing his thumb across the head and giving Kuroo a few slow strokes, enough to hopefully get the message across this time. But Kuroo doesn’t do anything outside of give him a shaky exhale and drop down to kiss him.

“Oh, you wanted to suck me off?”

“Yeah,” Daichi nods. He’s too embarrassed to say it, and while it sounds vulgar when Kuroo says it, it also sounds delicious, so he’s not going to pitch a fit about language right now. He’s too turned on to care what Kuroo says. And who knows, maybe dirty talk is something he could be into.

“Generous,” Kuroo nips at his jawline. “Next time.”

“Next time?” Daichi asks more along the definition of it being a promise, rather than questioning if he’s going to come back here again. Kuroo resumes his reach for the drawer, coming back with a bottle of lube. Daichi doesn’t pay much attention to the fact that it’s half empty. Nope. None at all. 

“You said you’ve bottomed, so you know how this works, right?”

Daichi nods, recalling his first time having done this. He bottomed first, out of both volunteering and being nervous about topping, and okay, his first boyfriend was Suga, and yeah, they were both hormonal teenagers with no idea of how to pleasure outside of the simple fact that touching certain places felt good. That was that, and they made it work.

So with that in mind, Daichi has little to zero experience on much else, and he thinks that Kuroo might be realizing this, because he keeps giving him these pitiful looks, where his one eyebrow arches and his lips twist into a grin that screams “you’re such a cute virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin,” Daichi snaps.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Not at all. Virgin and novice aren’t the same thing,” Kuroo dumps a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, using his dry hand to push one of Daichi’s thighs towards his chest. Daichi squirms a little when his leg is tossed over Kuroo’s shoulder, and squirms even more when Kuroo runs that free hand across his thigh, caressing it more so than adjusting.

“How was this first time of yours?”

Daichi stares at him impassively.

“What? I’m trying to make you feel good here, Sawamura. Plus, there’s nothing wrong with a little conversation.”

“What do you want me to say? It felt… weird. A good weird.”

Kuroo nods, and Daichi doesn’t hear what he says next because the feeling of a slick finger against his entrance makes his senses glitch, but apparently it wasn’t important, because Kuroo doesn’t repeat himself and inserts said finger. He’s slow about it, and Daichi can feel him nipping gently at the side of his knee, closer to the lower part of his inner thigh. It doesn’t feel like much of anything outside of a hot intrusion. No, not hot as in sexy, just _hot_. 

“You ever come from just your ass before?”

Daichi sputters, half laughing at Kuroo’s blunt question, half flustered over the digit currently working it’s way inside of him, past the second knuckle.

“I’ll take that as a no. What, did this guy just stick it in for a few seconds?”

“Uh. Well. His libido wasn’t the _best_.” Daichi reminds himself to apologize to Suga later, or do something nice for him. He feels bad, selling him out to Kuroo like his.

“Oh man, your first time was with a one pump chump?”

“Hey, don’t make fun of him.”

“Sorry,” Kuroo smiles, and the apology is genuine. He works in a second finger. Daichi tenses. “Breathe. Been a while, huh?”

Daichi nods, grateful that Kuroo gives him a few moments to melt back into the mattress. It feels weird, like he remembers. A slick, forced entry that Daichi has to retrain himself how to relax around. Kuroo mouths along his thigh, fingers curling back and up towards himself, and Daichi finds that movement kind of weird until they swivel across a spot that makes his spine tingle. His reaction is involuntary and totally innocent, but the satisfaction is puts on Kuroo’s face is a dead giveaway. 

“Found you,” he hums, and does it again, and again, and again, right over that spot. Daichi feels a heat pool in his stomach, in the base of his back that twists his mind loose of thoughts and makes his chest heave erratically.

“Kuroo—!”

“Wow, okay. You’ve never had it like this before. Got it,” Kuroo nods. “Can I add another one?”

Daichi nods, whimpering slightly when the heat subtracts, his voice growing louder when it doubles. The stretch is a little much, nothing he can’t adjust to over time, but when Kuroo runs his fingers over that spot, Daichi’s world whites out, putting spots in his vision and making his hips spasm and jerk. It’s a whole new kind of heat. Not the kind that he had when Suga was inside of him, or the kind that he gets when his cock is stimulated. It’s something new and different, and Daichi is a little scared that he could get addicted to a feeling like this very quickly.

But all these thoughts are completely subjective, because he can’t even think straight. 

“Sawamura, your reactions are so perfect,” Kuroo breathes, “C’mon. You’re right there. I’ll bring you to it.”

“Kuroo, seriously—fuck!”

“Yep, that’s the idea. Right here, this little sweet spot of yours.”

And then Kuroo, the sly bastard, brings his one free hand down Daichi’s stomach, fingers feathering their way towards his cock and stroking him, slowly and deliberately in time with his fingers. 

“Oh my god. Shit. Kuroo. Wait—it’s hot!”

“God, yeah. I hope so. You’re really feeling it. Come on,” Kuroo encourages, working his fingers a little faster, needier than he had been before. 

Daichi’s voice cracks, feeling orgasm sway its way into his reach, and if Kuroo keeps working him the way he is, he’s not going to hold out much longer at all. But apparently, neither is Kuroo. He pulls his hands away, leaving Daichi hot and bothered and quivering at the loss of touch.

“Shit, Sawamura I can’t hold out any longer,” Kuroo admits, ripping open a condom—Daichi isn’t sure when that got there, he’s too boneless and blissed out to pay attention to much else right now—and works it over his cock. “You ready?”

“What do you think?” Daichi hums, eyes still unfocused and voice drenched in lust. 

Kuroo shifts his hips, one hand guiding his cock, the other steady on Daichi’s inner thigh, pushing it wider and tilting forward as the tip presses against the entrance. Daichi couldn’t be any needier right now, hissing quietly at the heat he knows he’s about to feel.

They both freeze at the sound of a door slamming. Kuroo twitches, turning his head towards his bedroom door, both of them completely silent save for trying to mask their heavy breathing.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Kuroo hisses.

“Next door neighbors?”

“We don’t have thin walls,” Kuroo mumbles, his thumb absentmindedly moving across the junction between Daichi’s pelvis and his inner thigh. It makes Daichi’s hips move, bumping against the head of Kuroo’s cock, and they both shudder. “How quiet can you be?” He asks, staring Daichi straight in the eyes.

“Uhm.”

“Damn it,” He growls, “I wanted to see your face. Turn over.”

“What?”

“Use the pillow,” Kuroo orders, his voice urgent, but quiet, kind of like the way it was back in that coat closet. Daichi listens to him and flips onto his stomach, feeling Kuroo help him guide his ass into the air, and at first, Daichi is a little annoyed at the switch of position. He wanted to attack Kuroo’s mouth again. But then Kuroo is pushing his way inside, and Daichi forgets all about tonsil hockey and forces his face into the pillow.

Kuroo’s length is thick, hot, and eager. It slides against Daichi’s walls perfectly and slowly, probably too slow, because Daichi finds himself pushing back into Kuroo.

“Easy,” Kuroo whispers. Daichi doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling. Kuroo kneads at the round of Daichi’s butt, palming a cheek between his hands as he slowly pushes, in and out, shallow thrusts that tease Daichi’s insides all over. 

“Tight, firm. Damn, Sawamura. You really do have a great ass.”

“Shut up,” Daichi reaches back to swat at him, but he’s laughing himself. “I thought you said we didn’t have to worry about roommates?”

They’re both speaking in whispers now.

“I know. I dunno what happened,” Kuroo shrugs, “but I’ll be damned if I let you leave me with blue balls again. I was so hot for you that night.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I wanted to return the favor, or at least say thank you—!” Daichi cuts short and drops his face into the pillow to conceal a moan, feeling Kuroo push himself further in. Kuroo leans down to kiss at the back of his neck, lips making their way to Daichi’s ear.

“I think you’re the first person I’ve met that would genuinely thank someone for a sexual favor. But about returning it, I think this is working nicely,” Kuroo pushes his hips forward, and Daichi feels them flush against him. He’s filled him to the hilt, not moving, but it feels so full, stretching Daichi and dragging his voice back down his throat.

“Can I move now?” Kuroo whispers, rolling his hips just slightly.

“ _Yes_ ,” Daichi breathes, and Kuroo pulls back, slowly pushing his way in, deeper this time, with more purpose than to adjust. Daichi feels the heat shoot like bullets, ricocheting against almost all of his erogenous zones, as if that were even possible. Kuroo does it again, striking over that sweet spot long and hard, and Daichi bites down into the pillow to keep his voice down.

Kuroo is patient with Daichi, finding a rhythm that works for the both of them, and somehow he continuously manages to swipe over that spot of Daichi’s, the one that makes his world spin. “Shit, Sawamura… so tight. So good,” Kuroo growls against the back of his neck, biting a little harder than usual. He tilts Daichi’s ass a bit higher, long fingers curling around Daichi’s hip and guiding him back into him. “Come on. Back into me, feels good, right?”

And Kuroo is right. It feels beyond good, it feels fucking amazing, and Daichi didn’t know he was this horny until he shamelessly can’t stop pushing himself back onto Kuroo, twisting his head up to aim for Kuroo’s mouth. He finds it, growling slightly against Kuroo’s Cheshire Cat grin, because this asshole knows Daichi is something close to desperate when he kisses him.

“Kuroo. Kuroo,” Daichi repeats, not sure what else to say, what else he can say, but Kuroo doesn’t mind it.

“Shh, I do have a roommate somewhere in this apartment right now,” Kuroo whispers, bringing a hand alongside Daichi’s head to steady himself. His hips pick up the pace. Daichi gasps, having to forgo the hot and heavy make out and use the pillow to keep his voice down.

Climax is in sight, closer than he thought at first, and Daichi knows he can get himself there if he reaches for himself. Kuroo already beats him to it, biting down on the lobe of his ear again.

“I’ll come—!”

“That’s the idea, gorgeous.”

Daichi slips at the nickname. His hips jerk and spasm, throwing the rhythm off and clenching around Kuroo. And Kuroo must have been close too, because that little movement has him muffling his moans into the back of Daichi’s skull, a string of curses being thrown as he pulls his hips back.

Daichi’s hips twist and writhe at the heat loss, but his bones are about as useful as limp noodles right now, and he’s too busy trying to breathe to form coherent words.

“You don’t realize how erotic you can be, Sawamura,” Kuroo sighs, and Daichi blinks at him, bleary eyed and smiling. 

“Didn’t last as long as you usually do, huh?”

“Do you always become a smartass when you feel good?” Kuroo smirks, rolling onto his side to catch his breath. Daichi doesn’t move an inch aside from rolling onto his back. After Kuroo regains his strength, he rolls off the bed to toss the condom out and grab a wet cloth from the bathroom.

“Th-thanks,” Daichi stutters, sensitive at the touch of the fabric across his stomach. 

“Mhm.” Kuroo goes to find his shorts and his shirt, pulling them on with ease.

Daichi shifts awkwardly, rolling to get up so he can put his clothes back on. 

“Hungry?” Kuroo asks him.

Daichi looks at him like he just asked him to calculate the mass of the sun.

“I’m nice enough to feed you before I kick you out.”

Daichi doesn’t argue him. He’s still feeling like he has jelly in his limbs, so maybe a quick bite to eat couldn’t hurt before he ducks out. He pulls his clothes on and follows Kuroo into the kitchen, where the coast is clear and no roommates seem to be in sight. Daichi doesn’t ask, Kuroo doesn’t say, and he walks over to the cabinet to search for something to munch on.

“Hmn… how do you feel about cereal?”

“Whatcha got?”

“Cap’n Crunch,” Kuroo grins.

“Whoa, you do?”

“It’s not a rarity, Sawamura. It’s right next to Trix at your local grocer.”

“No it’s just. My roommate loves sugary cereal, but he hates Captain Crunch. So, we never buy it. It’s the only one I really like, though.”

Kuroo stares at him for a few moments, before he pulls the box out and pushes it at Daichi, then pushing two bowls and some milk onto the counter. He then reaches for his phone in his pocket and taps at his screen for a few moments.

“What are you doing?” Daichi asks, cheeks turning red when his staring at Kuroo causes him to clumsily knock a few Cap’n Berries across the table.

Kuroo flashes him that Cheshire Cat grin, and twists his phone around. “I finally got a nickname for you.”

Sure enough, Daichi is staring at screen with Cap’n Crunch saved just above his phone number.

He looks from the screen to Kuroo and back, seeing how pleased he looks with himself, and he can’t help but laugh.

Maybe this decision wasn’t so bad after all.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos and bookmarks are really appreciated! ^v^*
> 
>  
> 
> [le tumblr](fukuchan.god.jp)  
> [le twitter](twitter.com/tendousatori)


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